TGP glided into the room, its movements silent and unnervingly smooth. It was a chrome-plated angel of swift, bureaucratic justice. A terrorist, having recovered from the initial shock, pulled a backup pistol from an ankle holster. Before he could even raise it, TGP was on him. Two small prongs shot out from the robot's wrist, and a crackle of blue energy arced through the air. The man seized up, his body convulsing as the taser did its work, before collapsing to the floor in a twitching, unconscious heap. The robot didn't even pause. It glided to the next armed threat, and the next, its movements a cold, efficient dance of subjugation.
The remaining terrorists, seeing their comrades dropping like flies, finally broke. Two of them made a desperate, panicked dash for a large, red alarm button on the far wall. They were almost there, their fingers just inches from sounding the alarm that would lock down the entire facility.
But they had forgotten about the mountain.
